


Briggs week 2017

by asvlm



Series: Prompts [9]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Automail, Drachma, Gen, Off Screen Death, Origin Story, Secrets, improper binding, unsafe binding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 21:39:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9258338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asvlm/pseuds/asvlm
Summary: This is for the FMA Briggs week that occurred starting 8 Jan 2017. The prompts are as follows, each chapter follows each prompting.Sunday, January 8: Olivier Mira Armstrong // SecretsMonday, January 9: Captain Buccaneer // Origins(abandoned)





	1. Olivier Mira Armstrong's secrets

The woman called General Major Olivier Mira Armstrong was a woman who had always been hindered at each step in her life. From her brother being the one who was to get the armstrong household and the fortune it brought, to having lied when she first entered the service over her sex. She was a woman who’d been able to lie her way up the chain, and she did so without a flinch. It was moments like this that she realized just how much she was able to be so very perfect in certain instances, including this one. 

Olivier was currently called Oliver, according to her records with the state, and she had managed to bribe every man who had been a doctor for her, to keep her secret. They’d mostly all yelled at her, however, upon seeing some methods that she used. Sheets that were going to be thrown away, wrapped crudely around her. Her fingers deftly found the startof the bandage, and she started to pull them off, feeling the painful pressure lift from her. 

Her first breath was a relief, just for a few moments, until she felt that nagging pain in her side. She knew she had a broken rib, but she was unable to go to anyone over it. If she did, her secret would be out, and she’d be kicked out of the military, for lying about herself, about the information needed to treat her like less than she was. But, she had been paid the same as a man, she was able to pass well enough as a man, regardless of her long hair and feminine features. 

Olivier was a woman, through and through, and the fact that she had to fake having a piece of genitalia was a fact she hated. The deep indentations over her ribs were ones that never quite went away, and she hoped she’d manage to find a place that she was able to let the marks heal, and her bones adjust back to where they were supposed to be. She didn’t believe that she’d be able to, ever. 

The marks were painful, as she touched them, lightly, and she saw the red marks in near perfect circles that formed on her breasts. She pulled out the slave she’d gotten, and carefully placed it onto the ditches marring her sides, smoothing them as well as she could. A bloom of purple appeared, however, and she was instantly aware of what it was. The broken rib. Her fingers were careful over the area, and every touch was painful. 

“Major Armstrong,” she suddenly heard, and she turned around, her arms crossing over her chest. She wasn’t on duty right now, after all, and though she generally had to be ready, she often took ten minutes after the end of her shift, at nine, and cleaned her bandages. However, it seemed that the current Major General was wanting to break her normal routine, a routine that everyone knew of, but it seemed that not everyone wanted to respect. Her hands were instantly to her thick coat, and she wrapped it around herself, offering some form of modesty. 

“Sir, may I ask what-” Yet, her words were cut off, as the man moved over to her. She didn’t pull back in the slightest, holding her ground to him. She licked her lips after a moment, the little bit of nerves appearing. 

“You don’t need to hide like this, Oliver. We all have secrets, and you don’t need to hide yours.” He gently touched her shoulder, as he said that. “How long has your rib been broken, Major?”

“A few months.” 

“Get down to medical, this instant, Oliver.” 

“Olivier,” she corrected, then. “Olivier Mira Armstrong, sir.” 

* * *

She was looking in the mirror again, but this time, she was looking at the disfigured ribs. Due to her having broken her ribs, multiple times, her ribs were all slightly wrong, though not many people saw it, due to her always wearing her uniform. Yet, as she looked at her bones, she tried to breathe, find it just as difficult, if not impossible, as normal, but she didn’t ever tell anyone, not even the doctors. She insisted she was fine, during every checkup, that happened every 90 days.

A breath in, and General Major Olivier Mira Armstrong put on her uniform, and left her room, her sword tacked onto her hip. 


	2. Chapter 2

Buccaneer was a man who kept many secrets. He did so not just for privacy, but moreso for protection. Not many knew that his mother had been from Drachma, after all. He didn’t like to publicize the fact that he wasn’t a true Amestrian, regardless of the fact he was enough of one that most wouldn’t bat an eyelash. 

Even still, he was aware there were whispers continually over him. His black hair and eyes, his husky build, every single part of him was always under a sharp eye, and he hated every single second of it. He was a man who kept his words sharper than his diamond tipped claws, his actions stronger than the muscles on his shoulders, and he was so for a reason: He needed to keep himself strong in front of those who questioned his motives. He knew there had been words over him being a spy, though that was able to be said about Miles as well, he was aware. 

Buccaneer looked at the one photo he had of his mother, and he took a breath, putting it back into his drawer. He was allowed one small container of personal items, just like everyone else, and he smiled at the small locket that used to be his mother’s. He let his smile fall, however, when he heard the door open, and he closed the box, quickly locking it. He hated being interrupted, and if it was someone new, they’d certainly be one to disappear, upon seeing the Brigg’s bear. 

Upon turning around, the man saw Major General Olivier Mira Armstrong, and he saluted her, his feet snapping together, left arm at his side, right claw at his forehead. 

“At ease,” the superior said. She moved closer to him, looking at the box. “Your secret,” She said, without any other major words. Her fingers touched the wood, dark and cold, before she looked at Buccaneer. Her eyes moved from his eyes to his shoulder, and they both started to think of the same thing: the origin of his automail. That is to say, his port was of Drachmian make, and that there was always some issues with matching it to Amestiran mechanics. However, that was of little consequence, knowing the accident that took his arm. 

It really was just an accident. She’d said that he should use his leave for something conductive, after all, that maybe he should see if he could bring her back some intelligence she didn’t have before. Either way, she needed to know if they were going to move or not, and if he didn’t, she said someone else would take the dangerous job. Of course he’d instantly gone up north, not quite breaking any treaty, but he did spy on the country, managing to find out they didn’t. Unfortunately, he had been found out, and he was shot in his shoulder and arm, the bullets cutting nerves, to the point that his arm was useless after the holes, and the area just above it, as well. He had to have it removed, but he had managed to ice it and bind it just well enough for him to get back to a Drachman doctor, and the dead tissue had gotten removed. Yet, upon the paralysis being found, he forced them to remove it, and give him an automail arm. The man had contacts with a Drachman Automail mechanic, and they got the port, and the arm on quickly. He didn’t finish the physical therapy with them, but went back to briggs, betting as much work as he could manage, as he was rehabilitated.

They should have refused him, ended his military career, but even with one hand, they were all terrified of the bear, and it showed. So, he had gotten it, and his arm was one of the finest made.

He looked down for just a moment, following her view. 

“Don’t worry, sir,” he said, knowing she hid her guilt over the ordeal well, but he knew her. He was well aware just how much it played with her mind, day in and out. “It was my choice.” The blonde nodded, after that. 

“A stupid decision, honestly,” she curtly replied, and turned away from him, starting to leave. “You have a new arm coming in within the hour. Get down to medical and try it on; you’ll need to tell me what you think of it.”

“Yessir,” Buccaneer replied, and straightened himself some, waiting until she left. As soon as she did, a smile touched his lips, and he looked at the box. He soon put it up, velvet wrapping around it, and he smoothed it. A loose shirt was put on, and then his uniform was fixed in place. 

Even if he was born from a woman in a country that was going to ruin them both, he was happy with his life. He dedicated his life to his country, and his country was Amestris, none other. 


End file.
